Page 78 of Take My Hand

But I didn’t want that with Daniel. Deep down, I had known I needed to break up with him for a while at that point, but the fear of being alone was stronger than the disrespect he treated me with.

And there was a part of me that wanted to still stick around for the good moments. The times when I would come home from a walk and he had bought me flowers. The times when I would get out of the shower and he would have blankets laid out on the floor and a movie queued up for us to watch together.

Every couple had highs and lows and I always hoped that he would change. That he would grow up and see that the way he spoke to me wasn’t how he would want to treat his partner.

But he never did. And I think he sensed my growing desire to leave and made a last-ditch effort to keep me. Because even if he looked at me with such venom last night, I know he loved me.

I throw in a bit of sugar and a splash of milk before carrying my mug over to the couch, tucking my legs underneath me as I settle in the cozy cushions.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table, but I don’t answer. Don’t flip it over to see who it is.

I know it’s Hayden. And I know I need to talk to him. But I can’t face him yet. For just a little bit longer, I want to keep the images of him looking at me with adoration and desire and not know if that’s changed.

A knock on my door draws my attention, and I walk over to it, uncaring that I’m still wearing the same ratty sweatpants and oversized tee of Hayden’s that I slept in. It smells faintly like him and I needed the comfort of it last night.

I open the door a fraction, nervous of who might be standing on the other side. Daniel doesn’t have my address, but I’m sure he’d get a hold of it if he really wanted to. I told Hayden I needed space, but maybe he didn’t take my request seriously.

“Hi,” Scar says tentatively, peering at me through the small crack. “I brought lunch.” She holds up a brown paper bag.

“Hey,” I say, opening the door the rest of the way and stepping aside for her to come in. Even in the dead of summer, she’s still wearing large, green combat boots that make me hot just looking at them.

She shucks them off, bringing her down a couple inches, and strides into the kitchen to grab plates.

“I’m guessing this isn’t just a random visit you decided to make.”

Scar looks up from the bag she’s pulling food containers out of and her expression softens. “Walker filled me in when I turned my phone back on this morning.” She must’ve been in the studio all night then. There are often hours that my messages sit, pending delivery, until she turns it back on after working.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, the skin already raw and sore.

“I’m so sorry, Carter.”

I shake my head, looking down at my feet. “I don’t want your pity.”

“Good. ’Cause you don’t have it. I’m saying I’m sorry that for one, you had to go through that. And two, that it was used as a weapon and thrown back in your face. In front of other people too.”

My lungs burn at the idea that Hayden wasn’t the only one that heard last night. His friends did too. Was anyone else within earshot? Nausea rolls in my stomach thinking about the photos that were snapped as we were heading into the club and if this information is now attached to them.

As if sensing my rising panic, Scar rushes to reassure me. “The pictures are out there of you guys going in and people know you and Hayden are together. But there’s nothing about what caused the fight online. As far as I can tell, no one heard anything or has reported it.”

A small sense of relief falls over me, but it does nothing in the grand scheme of how I’m feeling.

Scar unwraps a burger and sets it on a plate, adding a small container of fries to the side before sliding it across the counter and in front of one of my bar stools.

“Didn’t think today called for healthy shit.”

I laugh, and although it’s strained, it feels good. Pulling the stool out and settling in, I grab one of the drinks she brought as well and take a sip.

We eat in silence for a few moments, only the sounds of pickles crunching and ice rattling in the lemonades to fill the apartment.

“Hayden called Walker this morning, trying to see if I had heard from you.” Scar eyes me carefully. “He sounded like a complete mess when I told him I hadn’t. Have you spoken to him at all?”

I shake my head, moving fries around my plate but not eating any of them.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Scar asks hesitantly.

I slowly chew my bite of burger. Not to savor it, because honestly, it tastes dull against my gloomy mood. But to buy myself a little more time.

Exhaling loudly, I say, “Not really. It was something that I was one day planning to tell Hayden, but when the time felt right. And that got taken away from me last night.”

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